


four stark children who weren't named after lord pigeon ned stark and one who was

by janie_tangerine



Series: pigeon!ned stark [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ned Lives, Arranged Marriage, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Families of Choice, Grandparents & Grandchildren, M/M, Multi, Ned Stark Lives, Pigeons, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warging, in which ned is still a pigeon and still does his thing but he might have calmed down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 09:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13901556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in which the older Stark children all end up giving Lord Pigeon Ned Stark grandchildren, though not always the way he had imagined.





	four stark children who weren't named after lord pigeon ned stark and one who was

**Author's Note:**

> ... HELLO this is your yearly dose of pigeon!ned. I have absolutely no fucking excuses for this except that I asked for ideas on tumblr and you can blame two anons for pigeon!ned with his grandkids and Theon's utter fail at communication. This is still crack on a stick and I need to distract myself from election-related woes so it's probably EVEN CRACKIER AND EVEN FLUFFIER THAN USUAL. HERE, PIGEON!NED IS BACK, ENJOY IT. u__u
> 
> as usual everything belongs to grrm and the only thing I own is the crack and the title. I don't even know guys. HERE YOU GO.

 

1

 

It’s not, Bran thinks, that they had thought Arya’s marriage wouldn’t work out or anything. Actually, they all thought she and Gendry were absolutely well-matched and Arya _did_ look indeed very happy – more than any of them could have imagined her being, in all honestly – and maybe having waited until she turned five and ten and giving her a few years to get adjusted to the idea did also help with that. Not that Gendry was in any hurry – the poor guy always seems to not believe he actually is a lord and he’s _married to a lady_ and he always looks worried that some pigeon flying around Winterfell will tear him apart somehow, even if now he’s gotten better about it.

Thing is, no one around Winterfell had thought that _she_ would be the first one out of Ned and Catelyn Stark’s first three children to clear her throat while breaking their fast and blurt out that she was with child.

Which is why now _all_ of the people sitting at the table are staring at her as if she’s grown two heads, and their father’s feathers suddenly puffed up and Gendry looks like he’s honestly hoping he doesn’t get his eyes pecked out or anything of the kind.

“What,” Arya says, defensively, “you thought I couldn’t?” And – ah, damn, now she sounds hurt.

Good thing Sansa comes to the rescue immediately. “Not at all!” She exclaims. “It’s just, uh, you were married barely a year ago and we didn’t think you were trying or anything. Right?”

“Absolutely,” Robb blurts, nodding along guiltily – after all, in theory _he_ should have been the first to conceive, but everyone knows that he and Asha actually _don’t_ share a bed and that it’s a common agreement. “And honestly, I wouldn’t want to think of you actually – never mind. I don’t think _anyone_ here wants to think about any of the occupants in this room _conceiving children_.”

“… Fair point,” Arya says, looking slightly more relaxed. “Anyway. Uhm. Robb, I guess you’ll need someone else in your guard for now, because –”

“Of course, take all the time you need, I wouldn’t want to risk harming my first nephew – oh gods, that sounds so _wrong_.”

“Robb, you’re one and twenty, you _know_ people will start talking if –” Sansa starts, laughing.

“Sansa, _don’t_. People can talk as much as they want.”

Bran _can_ detect that his father’s cooing isn’t exactly _pleased_ , but never mind that. He’s not going to be the bearer of bad news.

“Well, anyway, now you know, can we just go back to having breakfast?”

Everyone does at once, Gendry first and foremost, even as he looks at her with completely enamored eyes that _no one_ back in the day would have bet would be turned towards the one Stark sister who didn’t care for romance, and Bran goes back to his food and resolutely does _not_ pay attention to the _other_ pigeon that has landed nearby. He’s _not_ warging now just because his father wants to talk to him or to _them_.

\--

_Admittedly, Ned is somewhat sad that he’s currently not human for the birth of his first grandchild – or better, granddaughter. He’s also maybe a tiny bit disappointed that it’s a girl because he had heard Arya and Gendry agreeing that if it was a boy they would have called him Eddard, and he had kind of been looking forward to that, but patience – one cannot have everything. And throughout the entire nine months, he had to come to terms that Robert’s son was in fact a lad you couldn’t fault for anything – he had behaved exemplarily as far as Ned could see, he makes Arya happier than he had ever seen her being and as he looks down at their daughter, who looks every inch like Arya, he seems overjoyed, probably more than Ned’s own daughter._

_“Gods,” Arya says the moment the maester and her mother and her siblings leave them alone, “remind me to_ never _do it again. I mean, I’m glad of it, but that was so bloody tiring and painful, I don’t want any other children.”_

_“As if I thought I’d ever have any,” Gendry says, shaking his head and sitting next to the bed where she’s holding the baby. Ned flies from the window to the free side of the bed and lets Arya move her free hand over his back._

_“So,” Gendry asks, “did you think of a name? Because we only decided on one for a boy, but –”_

_“Did_ you _think of one?”_

 _Gendry shrugs. “Not really. It’s not like I had such a great relationship with my mother or anything, so I wouldn’t know. And_ you _carried her nine months, you should get to choose.”_

_Arya hums, then looks at Ned, and then she smirks openly. “What do you say about Lyanna?” She asks, turning back towards her husband._

Oh.

_“It’s pretty,” Gendry agrees. “Why not?”_

_“Then I guess Lyanna it is,” Arya says, smiling. “I’m sure Father agrees, doesn’t he?”_

_Ned jumps closer to her, rubbing his head under her palm, and then flies up, landing on Arya’s shoulder._

_Well, that baby has Arya’s eyes and hair, which means she has_ his sister’s _eye and hair, and Jon’s, too, and –_

_If pigeons could cry he probably would have, but they can’t, and so he just coos in approval._

_Maybe the first one won’t be named after him, but another Lyanna Stark being around Winterfell? He could get used to it_.

 

2 & 3

 

Theon is _absolutely_ not surprised to find some damned pigeon perched on his seat when he comes back from the privy. The raven Asha just sent him from the islands is right on his desk.

He _supposes_ that’s Ned Stark. Theon isn’t as good at recognizing him as Robb and the others are, but he generally steers clear of most pigeons if he can, because he _knows_ Ned Stark doesn’t like that he and Robb are together and barely likes that Robb is with Asha _because_ they’re together. Except that now he figures _Lord Stark_ should know of what’s written on that raven.

“Er,” he clears his throat. “Lord Stark? Right?”

The pigeon coos back.

Right. He supposes that it was enough of an answer – he _did_ reply, right?

“Uhm. You – might be glad to know that my sister’s apparently with child.” She and Robb went to the islands to deal with a few matters there where his presences was apparently necessary even if they’re usually separated most of the time, and he supposes that they finally gritted their teeth enough to do the deed and produce some damned heirs since every other lord in the islands is clamoring for one and every other bannerman of Robb’s also is side-eyeing the fact that _Arya_ got there before he did.

The pigeon coos again.

“So, uhm, Robb’s giving you heirs. That’s it. I guess.”

The pigeon coos a third time and cants its head slightly to the left.

Then a moment later, _another_ pigeon, slightly older, slightly larger and with _way_ smarter eyes flies down into the room, right on that raven.

“Fuck,” Theon says, “I just made a damn fool of myself, didn’t I?”

He has a feeling that if the damned beast could laugh, it would have. Right. _That_ one’s Ned Stark.

“Well, _fine_. Anyway, Robb and my sister are having a child soon, or so that letter said. There, will you _stop_ ruining my clothes now?”

The last thing he expects is for the pigeon to dunk its feet into the small ink bottle and to write down, very shakingly, _MAYBE_ , on the back of that letter.

Then he lands on Theon’s shoulder, staining his shirt in ink, and flies away with the other one.

Theon _hates his life_.

He really bloody does.

\--

 _When it became clear, the moment she came back to Winterfell with Robb some three moons later, that Asha Greyjoy was pregnant and that it was with twins, Ned hadn’t missed any of the names-related conversation, during which he might have developed some empathy for her brother, if anything because he refused to even step foot in any of them. Robb definitely argued over_ not _ever naming an eventual male son like her father, but he had to promise in return that they wouldn’t name one after his own either, which Ned figures was fair, and since_ he _was also behind the death of her brothers, he figures she doesn’t want to name eventual children after him._

 _They settle on something neutral, and then they both spend an hour arguing over whose mother should an eventual girl be named after, until Theon steps in and tells them,_ fuck’s sake, just name her like _both_ of them and throw a coin for what name comes first when it’s time _. At that, they do settle, and Ned has to admit, maybe Greyjoy does have some good ideas after all._

 _Then, after a long delivery before which Asha Greyjoy utterly refused any help until she was well into her ninth moon, it turns out that the whole debate about naming eventual boys after their fathers was moot because they have two girls,_ not _identical – one has Robb’s eyes with dark hair, the other auburn with Asha and Theon’s dark eyes, and no one is surprised when they settle all differences naming the one with blue eyes Catelyn and the other Alannys._

 _“Well,” Asha tells both Robb and Theon after finally getting back on her feet and handing not so ceremoniously both girls at them, “I need to spend a week sleeping properly and possibly be at sea again before I go insane, so_ you _take them and do what you have to. Don’t either of you do anything stupid, and remember that we need to figure out how much time they’re spending here and how much time they’re spending at Harlaw.”_

_Then she’s out of the room without too many ceremonies, leaving the both of them with the twins and a fairly baffled look on her face._

_“I have a feeling,” Robb says, “that_ you _are going to raise these kids more than she will.”_

 _“Why, aren’t_ you _?”_

_“Point taken,” Robb replies, but he looks overjoyed, and as Ned flies father into the room and lands on Robb’s shoulder he has to say, they are really gorgeous children, and neither of them is strangely too loud, and the one Robb’s holding really has Cat’s eyes._

_“Oh, Father, there you are. I was wondering where you ended up.”_

_Ned smacks Robb in the cheek with his wing, not that it works too well, and a moment later flies on Cat’s shoulder as she enters the room._

_“If you two want a moment,” she says, “I can handle both.”_

_It’s probably telling that she ends up with both girls on the bed before Robb and Theon rush out of the room – then again, Ned thinks they haven’t been on their own in a long while. As much as he loathes even thinking about those two doing – never mind._

_“Look at them, Ned,” Cat says, and for a moment Ned thinks that even with a few streaks of white in her hair she looks way younger than she should, and he thinks that she_ should _find herself another husband, and then forgets it promptly when she runs her finger under his neck. “Aren’t they just gorgeous?”_

_Ned looks at them again._

_Yes, they are. Nothing to say about it. And if he won’t ever hold them properly, it could be worse. He could not be here at all._

 

4

 

Thing was, when a pregnant wildling girl showed up at the Wall during Jon and Sam’s shift pleading with them to either take her in or let her move past because according to her she was pregnant _by her father_ and he’d have killed the baby if it was a boy and kept her around to _marry_ her if she was a girl – no one halfway decent would have said no, Sam had reasoned, and after all lately their relations with the wildlings _did_ get better, especially after the Others’s defeat. Jon had agreed to help her out and since she seemed _really_ close to deliver, they went to Mormont and asked him if she could stay until she had the baby.

At that, Mormont had taken a deep breath and told them that _in theory_ it wasn’t allowed, but since their relationship with the wildlings got better and the Others were defeated it’s known that other brothers of the Night’s Watch have mistresses in Mole’s Town, so as long as they made sure the girl didn’t get hurt and they did their duties, he wasn’t going to have them hanged for it.

And that’s how they ended up with Gilly – that was her name – staying in Sam’s former room (he’s been bunking with Jon since that time Jon’s father – well, he’s a pigeon now, but it’s still Jon’s father – basically flied around them closer and closer until they fell on each other and kissed and _so on_ ) and giving birth to a lovely healthy baby inside that same room. It’s a boy, and as she says, _if I had stayed he’d have died within six hours_ Sam feels creeps rising along his spine.

“Well,” he says, trying to cheer her up, “your father’s not here, is he?”

“No,” she agrees. “And – I couldn’t have done anything without the two of you. Thank you –”

“There’s no need,” Jon says softly, “but – I’m glad we could. If you need to stay here a while longer –”

“I wouldn’t want to impose. Really –”

“As if anyone has used this room in years,” Sam says, clearing his throat. “And how are you going to name him?”

She shrugs. “I – I like that song about the winter rose a lot, though. I thought that if I could name ‘im, Bael would’ve been nice. But I didn’t give it much thought before I decided to run away.”

“It’s pretty,” Sam says. “And that’s a nice song.”

“I – I didn’t think I ever heard it,” Jon says sheepishly a moment later.

“Really?” Sam asks. “It’s set in Winterfell. Half of it, anyway?”

“ _What_? I had no idea.”

“I can sing it for you, if you’d like,” Gilly says. “It’s a nice song.”

“Fair enough. And anyway, I also think Bael’s a nice name.”

She has a very pretty voice, Sam decides, and as Jon’s hand slips into his when she gets into the part where Bael gets to Winterfell and his eyes cloud over with nostalgia, he thinks that as far as he’s concerned she can stay a while longer. He likes her, and she’ll need some help with that kid, and he’s relieved when he asks Jon what he thinks about it later and he agrees without hesitation.

\--

_The last thing Ned had expected to find on his next trip to the Wall, he reasons, was finding out that Jon and Sam visited regularly a wildling girl who’s currently living in a small house near Mole’s Town, doing sewing jobs and whatnot, and seeing that they’re both fairly friendly with each other, and that her two-year old recognizes openly the both of them._

_He had felt bad, after everything was said and done, for having agreed to send Jon to the Wall without even letting him know about his mother, and knowing that like_ this _he wouldn’t get to find a wife or father any children, but at that point it looked like the best option, and given Jon’s heritage, it might have been for the worst if no more Targaryens were born in Westeros._

 _Still. One day, when Bran decides to ride here, he_ will _ask him to warg into one of his operatives so he can tell Jon the truth. For now, he’s happy to see that it seems like even if he didn’t_ father _any children personally, he might be doing just that same job with one he didn’t personally sire._

_“Oh,” Sam tells Jon as they stand in the yard, making sure the kid doesn’t trip on himself while he chases a cat that obviously lives with them, “I think your father’s coming over.”_

_“Indeed,” Jon says, his lips breaking into a small smile, and Ned is just glad he found a way to be happy, all things considered. “And I think it’s time for introductions. Bael, do you want to meet your grandfather?”_

_As Ned flies over and lands straight into the child’s hand, to his great delight, he only has a few moments to feel sad that even_ this _one isn’t named after him, but he figures his mother did choose the name, and Bael is a nice one. Wasn’t it in that old song Old Nan used to sing to him and Lyanna all the time?_

_Anyhow, by now he’s made patience with it. Not having any grandchildren named after him won’t be the worst thing that’s ever happened to Westeros, or to Ned Stark._

 

5

 

“Little bird, _what in the Seven Hells did you just say_?”

Sansa laughs at seeing Sandor’s utterly baffled expression, not that she hadn’t expected it.

“I just said that I’m with child and unless I forgot about bedding anyone else in the last few years, it’s most definitely yours.”

He freezes. “Sansa.” Wait, if he’s using her full name, it means this is _serious_. “ _Sansa_. We aren’t – you aren’t – _how_ are you taking it this lightly?”

 _Then_ it dawns on her.

Right.

He might have a point when it comes to being worried. “You mean, we aren’t married and as far as the realm thinks I chose to never marry again so people might start asking questions if I suddenly become a mother without a father present?”

“ _That_ , too, but – where I come from, noble ladies having bastards out of wedlock don’t live happily ever after.”

She smiles wider. “Where _you_ come from,” she agrees. “ _Here_ , my brother is the Lord Protector and Warden of the North and he already said he cares nothing for what people think of the fact that he hasn’t forced me to remarry. If I have this child, no one will bat an eyelid, and no one will ask me to disclose the father or to _marry_ at once, if I don’t want to. So I am taking it lightly because no one would care, and if they tried to, they know Robb wouldn’t appreciate. And I doubt Stannis Baratheon cares for my status either way.”

She can see that he’s swallowing saliva just watching his neck move, and a moment later he looks down at the bed, where her pale hand is covering his – his skin is terribly rough under hers, but she likes how it feels, if anything because Joffrey’s was all smooth while his is all the contrary and at the beginning she _did_ love the feeling just for it, before she learned to like it for what it was and not for what it _wasn’t_.

“So,” she goes on, “I want it, and I _will_ have it, and whether I am married or not, it won’t matter. The question is, what about _you_?”

He looks at her, finally, shaking his head – the burned side of his face isn’t any less scarred in the soft sunset light, but there’s something in his eyes that she’s never quite seen on his face before.

“What about _me_?” He laughs. “Sansa, do you think I _ever_ even considered it? Who’d have wanted to have _my_ children anyway? I know I’m nowhere near good enough for the likes of _you_ and I wouldn’t fucking know where to bloody start with one. Or do I have to remind you that half the reason I’ve got _this_ ,” he says, pointing at his face, “is that my own fucking father never even tried to stop my brother from doing it? I don’t fucking know. I don’t think I’m any good for it.”

“You haven’t said no, though,” she smiles, ignoring the part where he reminds her she could do better – one day he’ll understand that she _couldn’t_. “You just listed reasons why you’d be a bad father. You didn’t say you _didn’t want it_. And for that matter, I _would_ marry you, if it made you rest easier about my status.”

“ _What_? But you said you didn’t _want_ to at any point, or did I fucking dream it?”

“I said it when I was just out of King’s Landing and it was a long time ago, and I didn’t want my brother’s bannermen to think it was a slight against them that I wouldn’t do it. But now it’s been years and honestly, who cares? I get to decide what I do with my life, Robb agrees and he doesn’t need to marry me off for alliances.”

“Your father is going to fucking pluck my eyes out for this,” Sandor groans.

“My father is going to do no such thing. So, do you want to raise this child _and_ to give me the wedding I always wanted or are you going to sulk all night?”

“Little bird, you should’ve definitely been a queen, if anything for how bloody stubborn you are,” he blurts, but his voice is shaking as he looks back down at her and – are his eyes wet?

“Maybe,” she concedes, “but I’d much rather have this.”

When he leans down to kiss her, she knows his answer, and she’ll tell him she had hoped for it all along –

But just not now.

\--

 _The last thing Ned had expected was for_ Sansa _to have children when she had been vocal for years about only ever wanting to spoil her siblings’s, and admittedly when she had told everyone that she was with child and out of wedlock, he had been tempted to pluck out Clegane’s eyes for real, and then she had smiled so wide it had to hurt and said that they were going to marry in a moon and he honestly didn’t have the heart to do such a thing to his daughter, so he didn’t._

_It had been, admittedly, a lovely wedding. Not large, not too grand, but Sansa had sewn herself both her dress and her cloaks and Clegane’s clothes, and he had looked – if not beautiful and gallant, at least he cut a striking figure when dressed nicely and properly, and he had kissed her with such carefulness, one wouldn’t have thought he had it in him._

_Not that it had convinced Ned of the soundness of Sansa’s choices, but it’s not as if he can actually dissuade her from anything, not when he’s still a pigeon, and not when he doubts he could even if he still was human. He spends the wedding perched on Cat’s arm as usual, and if his feathers flutter in the air when she kisses the top of his head just after Robb walks Sansa towards the heart tree, well, no one’s there to notice except for her._

_No one discusses baby names, but Ned is somewhat sure that it’s going to be a girl, and Sansa always spoke about how much she would have liked a daughter back in the day, and Ned hopes she gets one – she deserves anything that would make her happy._

_And then after a remarkably short delivery that makes both Arya and Asha Greyjoy mutter something about Sansa having gotten horribly lucky, he flies into the room to find his daughter holding a healthy son that’s maybe a bit heavier than normal, and who most definitely has her eyes and Clegane’s dark hair._

_“Oh, Father, you arrived just on time.”_

_Just – on time?_

_“This is never_ not _going to be fucking weird. Beg your pardon,” Clegane mutters. Ned doesn’t even pay him much more attention – he does have a point._

_“Sandor, mind your language,” Sansa laughs. “By the way, are you really sure –”_

_“Little bird, if you think I know any man I’d want to name him by, I’ve already told you, you’re completely fucking wrong. And anyway, yours was the right choice.”_

_What?_

_“Well then. Father, I think you should come say hello to Ned, shouldn’t you?”_

_For a moment, Ned’s wings freeze mid-air but at least he manages to not plummet down to the ground and flies himself at Sansa’s side._

_Oh._

_It’s – probably ironic that, at last and when he thought no more grandchildren would come from any of his own for a long time if they ever did (Rickon certainly doesn’t look much inclined to marrying anyone, and Bran is not a choice for obvious reasons even if he’s said for the last few years that he’s more than happy looking after his siblings’ children without having any himself) he_ did _have a grandson named after him, and he had to be_ Sandor Clegane’s _, but then again if the gods are sending him a sign that he should just resign himself and admit that the man isn’t half as terrible as he had imagined and that he makes Sansa happy, it might be time he catches the message._

_He looks at the baby – Sansa’s eyes, definitely, dark hair, he kind of looks a bit like Robb’s blue-eyes daughter, and he would like to tell Sansa that he’s plenty grateful for it and that her firstborn looks beautiful and that he’s just overjoyed to see her happy._

_He can’t, for now, but he figures he can show it, and so after cooing at both his daughter and his grandson, he flies straight towards Clegane’s arm and settles there, not caring if his feet might have a grip a tad too strong._

_He’s sure Clegane got the message, he decides when the man clears his throat and says that he’s glad Ned approves and that he’s not going to disappoint either of them._

_Well, Ned decides, that’s good enough. And he already knows that this one kid might not be the final grandchild he has, not from the way Sansa’s looking at her husband and vice-versa._

_Good. He’ll be around waiting for the next one, and meanwhile he’ll make sure his entire army of operatives knows that they have to look out for this one as well._

_Maybe he’ll give that order slightly more firmly than he had with all the others, but you cannot begrudge a grandfather that, can you?_

 

 

End.


End file.
